Say My Name
by of-ferrets-and-weaselettes
Summary: It was more than a fleeting interest, it was the beginnings of addiction. The second drag of a cigarette. And they were not about to leave it at that. D&G shameless smut M for a reason, EPILOGUE UP!
1. Chapter 1

She wasn't exactly clear on how it happened. How he went from the arrogant, self-serving git her brothers hated to a distractingly attractive, devastatingly suave, forbidden fruit that she couldn't help but appraise with her eyes every night at dinner. Even in his robes he had a great body, long and lean with an aristocratic gait that was just a little too even-metered; Ginny wanted to see him even the slightest bit off-balance, catch him in a moment of humanity.

So of course it was the most inconvenient moment of her life when Professor McGonagall assigned her to oversee detention in the dungeons with none other than the object of her frustrations, Draco Malfoy. To encourage inter-house relations in these trying times. Obviously. Ginny, the ever-obedient 6th year prefect would do exactly as she was asked. Ginny, the 16-year-old female trapped between a woman and a child would hate every moment of it, afraid of what might happen if she allowed herself even the tiniest leniency in his presence.

--

When Draco was alerted to this new program, his first response was to roll his eyes and make some grossly inappropriate comment about working in such close proximity with a Gryffindor, but when he heard which one was assigned, he swiftly bit his tongue, hoping no one noticed his change of attitude. She had grown into quite the young woman as adolescence had taken over. Her once ruddy hair had darkened to a sophisticated auburn, her freckles had dimmed slightly; her complexion now resembled cream with flecks of cinnamon. She was petite, but not at all unshapely. Draco had overheard more than enough Quidditch locker room conversations about what knickers she wore under her plaid school skirt, or how occasionally a button of her blouse would buckle under the strain of her full bosom, revealing for a moment the slightest hint of cleavage.

No, her maturity had not escaped his notice at all. She was spunky, yet coy, and he found his eyes wandering to her whenever she crossed the room, the slight spring in her step causing her curvaceous backside to bounce delightfully. On more than one occasion, Draco fought the urge to excuse himself to the restroom when any meal item let his overactive imagination wander. The banana at breakfast was bad enough, but the ice cream cone, her small mouth folding around the soft cream so innocently? Murder.

--

He reached the dungeons before her at 11 o'clock that night, intending to set things up for the detention. What he did not expect was for her to already be inside, arms crossed under her chest, the necessary materials for cauldron scrubbing laid in front of her. He cocked an eyebrow at her, as if that was all the inquisition she were worth.

"Where have you been, Malfoy?"

He checked the clock across the room, and it confirmed that it was 11:00. He could afford a little pride. "Not that it's any of your business, Weaselette, but I was studying in my quarters."

"None of my business? I've been waiting for an hour!"

"If you've been waiting an hour you must have arrived an hour early."

Ginny dropped her arms, running a frustrated hand through her hair, fighting an angry smirk. "You didn't receive the owl, did you?"

"What owl?"

"The owl McGonagall sent both of us saying that the time had been changed to 10 so the students would not be out that late past curfew. You know how they are about curfew now, ever since…" the anger in her expression lessened as she remembered to whom she was speaking. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, his cold, steel eyes daring her to continue the sentence.

"You were saying?"

Ginny knew it was wrong, but she couldn't help but bait him. Witty banter would surely distract her mind from picturing him in such a sensual way, she reasoned. "Since you let the Death Eaters in last year."

"I wasn't in control of myself."

She sauntered over to him, one hand on her hip. Her voice was low and daring. "Of course you weren't. Say what you want about the Imperius Curse, hire all the best lawyers and all the best aurors to conjure up some alibi to let you keep your title here, but I know what you're capable of, and I know what you did. What _you_ did," with that she entered his personal space, and hitched her chin up so her brown, fiery eyes matched his of grey, "You're not fooling anyone, Malfoy, least of all me."

She reached for the doorknob at his side, but instead he grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her body against his, willing her to feel the warmth and the friction between them. He wanted to intimidate her, to take the fire out of her one way or another. Maybe then his thoughts would remember to be insulted at what she was insinuating, maybe then he would stop picturing what was underneath the tight blouse and short skirt she wore.

She struggled against his grip, but it was in vain. His strength was undeniable, as masked as it was in his school robes. "You think you know so much, little Weasel."

"Let me go, Malfoy!"

He made a tsk-ing noise at her, shaking his head. "No, you should have known better than to tempt me."

"Tempt you? How on Earth did I mistakenly do that?" Ginny hoped he would attribute her shortness of breath to her struggling instead of what it was; he was so close, and his scent was intoxicating. Expensive and alluring; thoroughly male. It was taking all her concentration not to wrap herself around him and breathe him in.

He crooked a finger underneath her chin and snapped it up, forcing her to look at him. "You know very well how. You claim to know so much about me, and yet all we ever do is fight."

"That's not all we do—" Ginny caught herself a moment too late, her eyes snapping shut in realization of what she'd unwillingly admitted.

Draco could not have hoped for such luck. "Oh, so the littlest Weasley has a secret."

"Don't call me that," she tried to gain some of her pride back, looking away, struggling once more in vain.

All of a sudden, his lips were at her ear, his voice an amused, husky whisper. "What would you rather I called you? Ginny?"

She tried to hide the wince at her childhood nickname. It made her feel so young, so unnoticed. Luckily for her, he continued with his rant. "I don't believe that suits you, either. Others may call you that, but I want to know your real name."

"You know my real name."

He breathed a laugh, "Not yet. You know your real name when you're in the heat of the moment, nothing between you and your lover. When you go to give them pleasure: pure, unadulterated pleasure, and they're writhing beneath you on the bed," his murmurs became raspy as he continued to speak; Ginny closed her eyes at the intensity of the scene he was creating, unknowingly pressing herself closer to him, "You'll feel them buck underneath you, thread their hands through your hair, push you faster, harder, further, beg you to end their agony, and in the moment of bliss, they'll tell you, no inside jokes, no nicknames. The name they whisper like a worshipped prayer, the name they scream as they come for you, that's your name."

She tried to steady herself as he licked the shell of her ear, unable to stop the hitch in her breathing as she sighed. A smirk came to his face as he moved her arm to the back of his neck, then wrapping his arms around her small waist. He continued to take advantage of her unobservant haze as he drew her earlobe into his mouth. A small moan escaped her lips, and she grasped at his hair slightly, trying to find sanity in her swirling mind. Her voice was inexplicably weak. "Bugger off, Malfoy."

Another breathy chuckle in her ear; his hand rested on the swell of her breast, running the pad of his thumb around her puckered nipple, then kneading her slowly, testing her reaction, "You claim to know so much about me, and yet you don't even know my name," She bit her lip as she felt her inner walls clench, desire pooling between her legs as a fire raged in her veins. He rested his forehead against hers, still kneading her, pressing her body against his. His eyes seared as they met hers, a confident, aroused tone in his voice, his body hot and throbbing. "Would you like to know?"

Ginny released her breath in a sigh and pressed her body into his of her own volition, her fingers around his neck giving her leverage. She rolled her hips against his very promising erection, eliciting a moan of surprise from him. She raised to her toes and whispered in his ear, a simple, "Yes."

Draco's lips crashed down on hers, his hands holding her face between his palms. His mouth was urgent on hers, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth before his tongue begged entrance, which she instantly granted. He traced every contour of her mouth expertly, his tongue dancing with hers. Her hands moved his robe aside as she began to untuck his dress shirt, her mouth still moving with his. He moved to the curve of her neck, just below her ear, nipping at her tender flesh, abusing the skin before he ran his tongue over the lovebite, placing soft kisses around the area. She continued to untuck his shirt, her hands slipping around to the front, fumbling with his belt buckle. She brushed against his erection as she struggled to unclasp it; Draco's head thumped back on the door in response. "Ah, carefully. Carefully."

She met his eyes with a sultry smile as she loosened the belt, slipping it from his pants. She looked to his dress shirt, then smoothing his robes from his arms; he did the same for her. She kissed him, deep and long, then kissed the corner of his mouth, his chin, trailing down to his neck as she popped one button open. She kissed the newly revealed skin as she opened another, then continuing the routine. He watched her, eyes greedy with desire. "Do we have to worry about interruptions?"

She continued her work, whispering against his skin, "I sent them back to their dorms, and Filch still thinks there's detention. We won't be disturbed."

He waited until she freed the last button and her eyes met his before he answered. "Good."

Swiftly their positions were flipped, and Ginny found herself pressed between the hard door and Draco's even harder body. He quickly shed her blouse and reached around to unhook her bra, flinging it over his shoulder. He gazed hungrily at her breasts, giving her an approving grin before taking both fully in his hands, cupping her roughly. She wrapped her leg around him in appreciation, a strangled breath escaping her lips.

He kneaded her soft mounds as he ground his body into hers, their hips meeting and intensifying the electricity between them. The friction was great, but not great enough. He needed more, more of her, more than the confines of her skirt were allowing. Quickly he popped the button and pushed it down her legs; the offending clothing pooled at her feet, and she wrapped both legs around his mid-section, leaning against the door and his body to stay upright. Her eyes met his as she ground against him; she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a smirk. "Tell me…what is your name?"

He swallowed a groan and returned her smirk in kind, his mouth back by her ear. "When I'm through with you, you'll never forget it."

He swung her around, walking a few paces before depositing her on the long table before them, his hands on either side of her hips. She rose up slightly to see why he was not joining her, only to catch a brief glimpse of his smirk before he placed a promising kiss over her bellybutton. He continued lower, and Ginny could no longer support herself on her arms; she fell against the wood, a slave the sensations he was creating, trying to keep her traitorous mouth from begging him to go lower, lower, to remove the offending cloth of her knickers, already damp with anticipation.

The musky scent of her desire was overwhelming his senses, and yet he found enough control to torture her. He ran his finger around the elastic of her knickers, slowly dipping lower, rubbing her only once before pulling out again. Her breathing was short, and the tight coil of need between her thighs was pulsing uncontrollably. His rested his hands on her legs, running his nose along her inner thigh. Her hand twisted in his hair, trying to pull him slightly upward, to where she needed him most. He licked her once, the sensitive skin burning with heat. She whimpered once, beyond all hope of retaining any dignity. "Please….I can't stand it anymore, I need you."

That was all it took. He made quick work of her knickers, tossing them over his shoulder before swiftly inserting one finger inside her wetness. Her hips bucked upward at the sudden intrusion; he could feel her begin to tremble when he added another, pumping them in and out of her, watching her writhe with satisfaction. He thumb swirled around her clit, and again she cried out. "More," she gasped, feeling that completion could not be far away.

Draco picked up the pace, thrusting his fingers into her faster, harder, reaching and stretching her deeper than she'd expected. Tremors were overtaking her body as her hips met each of his thrusts, forcing him further inside her warmth. He squeezed her clit, torturing her, furiously rubbing her center until she could hold back no more. "Oh, Merlin, please, I'm so close..."

He reached upward and massaged her breast with one hand, taking her nipple into his mouth, nipping at her sensitive peak. It was enough to send her over the edge, and her body crashed against him, her walls contracting around his fingers as she came.

As she spiraled back down to Earth she noticed he was hovering over her, supporting himself on his arms. She faintly heard herself murmuring, "Oh, Merlin…fuck."

He chuckled slightly, capturing her lips for a brief instant. "Merlin, eh?"

She flushed, unsure of what he was talking about. He continued to speak.

"While I'm flattered, I'm afraid you've got the wrong answer," he kept his eyes on hers as he trekked down her body with his mouth, reaching her center in an instant. "Try again, Ginevra."

And then his mouth was on her, his tongue swirling around her clit before delving into her soft folds, still recovering from her orgasm mere moments ago. A strangled moan tore from her lips as he continued to delve into her, his fingers replacing his tongue as his teeth found her tight bundle of nerves; her hands were fists, her fingernails leaving half-moons in her palms. He was not gentle, he moved harder and faster than he had before, hoping that somehow he could restrain himself from shoving up inside her immediately. No, this was more than some quick fuck. This was her education.

He whispered against her heated flesh, her moans and sighs a promiscuous background to his speech. "That's it. Tell me what name will pass from your lips when you touch yourself at night. When someone else is stretching you, filling you, what name will you fight not to call him? What name is etched on the back of your eyelids so when you fall off the edge, it's the first thing you see?"

He kept his furious pace, spreading her legs further so he could penetrate deeper, reach a different place with every thrust. Somehow she found her voice as her walls contracted around him for the second time, her toes curling with intensity; she could feel him smile as she answered, panting, "Fuck, Draco, you know it's yours…ah, Draco…!"

She spasmed in her second orgasm of the evening, spiraling even further than the last time, leaving all semblance of control behind her. As she came back to her senses, she felt soft kisses in the curve of her neck, a hand tracing lazy circles on her stomach and around each breast. When coherent thought returned, she rolled her head to the side, making eye contact with him. He was smirking something fierce. She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing full well she could not deny anything he was thinking. She prepared herself for some smug comment, but none came. All he said was, "Better."

Somehow his smirk gave her all the energy she needed. It firmed her resolve; she was not the only student here. Gently, she placed her lips to his, a slow, sinuous kiss before she quickly rolled him to his back, pushing his pants down with her feet. She could feel his erection pressing against her stomach, and she knew he was close, closer than he would admit. She broke the kiss, tossing her hair over her shoulder, trailing one hand to the edge of his boxers. She could feel each muscle in his abdomen contract as a soft hiss escaped his lips. She threw his smirk back in his face before descending. "My turn," she murmured.

She freed him of his restraints, somewhat surprised by his size, resolved not to let it show. The last thing he needed was another reason to be arrogant. She wrapped her small hand around his length; his breathing quickened and his half-lidded eyes closed completely. She made a loose fist with her hand and he thrust into it, repeating the movement again and again as he hardened still. Experimentally, Ginny lowered her head, taking the tip of him into her mouth for only a moment; he groaned as her warmth promised to envelop him, and then she pulled away, running her nose along his inner thigh as he'd done to her. He knew exactly what revenge she was seeking, and he was all but reluctant to give it to her. "Tease."

She shook her head. "No, not at all. Patience is a virtue, I'm told."

She took more of him into her mouth this time, swirling her tongue around his head once before pulling away again, her hands running over his heated flesh. Draco's cool exterior was fading quickly; his hands were fists as he cursed aloud, "Fuck your virtues."

She couldn't help the smirk. "Oh you will. Believe me, you will."

There was a promise in her eyes, a devilishly tempting promise that held a little too much, but it quieted him for the moment. Ginny continued her tease, much to Draco's dismay, but the moment he opened his mouth to complain, she took him fully into her mouth, her tongue swirling, her head bobbing; all that came from his mouth was a strangled groan at her sudden attack. He didn't bother wondering where she'd learned to do this, he only knew that if she kept this up for much longer, he wouldn't last very long. Again and again she took him fully into her mouth until his body was so tense she could sense the beginnings of his completion. She was about to make the final stroke when his strangled moan resembled one word. "Stop!"

She did as he said, more out of surprise than obedience. She rested her head against his leg and watched him take a cleansing breath, trying to regain any semblance of control. She ran her hand along his trembling length, but again he hissed, "Stop, Ginevra. Not like this."

Her eyebrows knit together as his eyes met hers. "It's nothing you did, believe me, one more moment and I'd have come like a schoolboy," he sat up slightly, and she crawled over him, her breasts brushing against his chest. He nearly lost his concentration as she settled herself between his legs, her center just inches away from his throbbing length. Instead, his arms cradled her and rolled her over so he hovered above her confusing stare. He tried to explain without sounding entirely ridiculous. "You're not some two-bit prostitute to take it on your hands and knees," his eyes roamed her naked form hungrily, a testament to his honestly, "Oh no, Ginevra, when I come, I want to be so far inside of you no one could take my place. I'm going to ruin you for any other man, and you're going to love every second of it."

With that, he positioned himself and thrust all the way into her, past the barrier he'd only half-expected to find. A virgin. Somehow he'd expected it, but it didn't stop the shock he felt. She was giving this to him, her enemy. Why?

Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, her nails dug bitterly into his flesh as she felt her barrier break. It hurt more than she'd expected, and there was no way he hadn't noticed. A small cry came from the back of her throat, but he hushed her gently, waiting for her to adjust to his size before he continued. It was difficult; she was so tight and hot, her walls were constricting around him, pulling him further, and yet he stilled, waiting for her to give the go-ahead. His hushed murmur held a melodic gruffness; it nearly sounded like he cared. "You alright?"

She nodded.

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Because we can—"

"I don't want to stop."

"You sure?"

"I don't want to stop."

He strained to keep his control, to offer against his nature. "Last chance, Ginevra."

This wasn't the point. She wanted to be lost in the moment, no matter what that meant. Yes, she was sure. She'd been sure for some time now. Experimentally, she raised her hips to his, whispering seductively in his ear. "Don't stop."

It was all the invitation he needed. Slowly, but definitively, he pulled out of her only to fill her again, to roll his hips against hers, to increase the glorious friction between their bodies. Her mouth parted in a moan that emanated from the back of her throat; it was music to his ears. He captured her lips with his, spreading her legs further, reaching deeper, meeting her thrust for thrust.

Her hand twined in his hair; she tugged his head back when he found that once place inside her that set her insides on fire. "More. Right there, Draco, please."

He did as she commanded, picking up their pace, surprised when he found her still meeting his every move. She was not yet satisfied, she knew he was holding back. She raised her mouth up to his ear and whispered. "Forget I'm a virgin. Forget my name. Forget everything you know and just _fuck me already_."

Her candor should have surprised him, but it was so undeniably her that he could only smirk. He raised one of her legs to his shoulders, and she moved the other of her own accord. He pounded into her relentlessly, rubbing her center with one hand as his other supported her neck. Her arms formed a cage around him, and as she met his rolling hips she finally felt the tension inside begin to build. His face was the picture of concentration, she knew he was close. He was so deep within her she couldn't feel where he ended and she began, but all she knew was that he still wasn't giving her everything. Her breathless command was undeniable. "More, Draco."

His lips wandered up to her neck, covering her pulse with his mouth, sucking on the tender flesh. He moved his arm from behind her head to massage one breast, rolling her nipple harshly between his fingers. She felt him deeper and deeper, fire raging through her as all she thought was him, all she felt was him, she breathed him, she tasted him, she knew him. It didn't take long before she felt the tension began to give way to pure electricity coursing from him to her and back again, and her finally satiated shriek mingled in the air with his roar of completion, holding her tight against his body as they came together. He eased her through her orgasm, pumping once, twice more before finally collapsing against her, the sweat and heat causing their bodies to stick together slightly.

She had a permanent, tired smile on her face as she brushed the hair from his eyes, kissing the bridge of his nose. "Thank you."

He could only smirk in response, slowly pulling out of her; she gasped at the loss of his size, but the emptiness she felt only doubled her pleasantly sated state. He lay beside her, pulling her against his chest, toying with a strand of her hair. It was more than she'd expected.

She couldn't help but chide him. "A cuddler, are you?"

"Hush. I'm a gentleman. It's what you do for the girl, it's common courtesy."

She greatly doubted that was his only reason, but she let it suffice, enjoying his embrace. It was odd how comfortable she felt there, how it almost seemed like they fit.

He tried not to focus on what had just passed between them, but how could he not? The way she'd commanded him, how her body had fit so perfectly with his…it was more than coincidence that they'd found each other that night. It was Fate. And he was well-enough acquainted with Fate to know that Fate had it out for him, that his days were numbered and that'd he'd better get used to it.

Or maybe not. Maybe she was the beginning of the change he'd scarcely hoped to look for. He kissed her head and inhaled deeply. She even smelled like home, or what home is supposed to be. For the time being, he let it alone, lying on the most uncomfortable table ever crafted with the most beautiful woman he'd ever been with, the only woman he'd ever made love with.

That was enough for him.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco laid there, the wood biting into his bare skin, running his hand absentmindedly up and down the back of the beautiful redhead draped across his body. She looked so peaceful as she slept, her breathing even and a soft, contented smile gracing her lips. He found himself staring, unable to sleep like her. He quirked a quizzical brow as a new emotion crossed her face in sleep, something akin to confusion or fear. He felt her heartbeat quicken against his side, a cold fear gripped his heart, made it hard for him to breathe. What was wrong with her?

Her brows creased as she tossed for a moment before he felt something on his stomach. Her hand, which was lying limp in slumber moments prior, was now clenched into a fist. With worried eyes he took it in his hand, pressing it against his lips in the softest of gestures. He could feel the tension ease to nothing as her now tranquil body snuggled closer to his. She was mumbling something against the skin of his neck as she burrowed in closer to his warmth. All he could gather was his given name, but it was more than enough. His named soothed her, comforted her.

It was the most disconcerting moment of his life.

How had it come to this? It was all so confused in his mind, she had been such a fleeting thought, such a "wouldn't it be interesting" notion, and then she was so close, so tempting, so irresistibly essential that they fell together in the most intimate of ways. Even the memory of their heated kisses and rushed embraces made his blood rush south. He tried to quell them by continuing to soothe her, brushing a strand of hair from her face and running his hand along her arm, but it was to no avail. In a half-drowsy state she smirked at his actions, pressing her lips to the curve of his neck. Draco's self-preservation instincts kicked in, and he steeled himself against the sensations she created. His voice was soft and nearly convincing.

"Sleep, Ginevra. There's time yet."

And she believed him. In a moment's time she was unconscious and blissfully unaware of her lover's absence. He dressed himself in what he could find, gathering her clothes as he did so. He piled them next to the table, grabbing her robes, draping it over her body. Running over the dungeons schedule in his head, he affirmed that this room was only used for detentions, and nothing was scheduled until tomorrow evening. She would not be disturbed or discovered.

He ran a flustered hand through his hair then down his face, rubbing his eyes as he did so. This was too much, it was all too much. He wasn't prepared for this, not for her, not for any of it. With one sidelong glance to the table he memorized everything about her sleeping figure one last time, certain he would never see Ginevra again, not in this way. The thought saddened him beyond belief, and he felt the prickling of a tear in the corner of his eye. With this, fear won out. He could not start something he had no intention of finishing.

So he left.

--

iThree Weeks Later/i

Ginny was up late again, trying to study and actually retain the paragraph she'd read five times now. Still no luck. Frustrated, she slammed the old book closed, shoving it off the common room table. Why did everything remind her of him?

She had been rash, they both had, but where it was in his nature to have casual sex, Ginny was new to the intricacies of lovemaking, in particular, the aftermath. She had rolled over on the table expecting to find him sleeping, but instead her arms were cold and empty. Modesty had rushed over her, but she found her robes covering everything they could. Pulling it around herself, she had glanced at the clock: exactly 3:10 a.m. It seemed that every night after that, she found herself waking up at 3:09, hoping to catch him in her arms before he left. Every night she was disappointed, and on more than one occasion she'd sneak to the Room of Requirement, which always took the form of that room, and stare. He was never there, would never be there, and he had ruined her for anyone else. No one could fill his place, not even her own fingers when the ache was too much to bear. That smarmy bastard had done everything he'd promised. It was always his name. Always.

They would pass occasionally in the halls, never making direct eye contact. Once they were assigned to the same patrol, but she found Zabini in his place, saying Malfoy had food poisoning and wasn't well to do it himself. She'd laughed without humor, of course he was. Running and hiding away from her, like the coward he was and would always be. Afraid to face her.

And now she was alone in the Gryffindor common room, clutching a pillow in front of the fire, willing her eyes to cry to purge some of her emotion, but they refused to let any moisture pass her lashes. She shook her head and breathed a deep sigh.

It was bad enough he left without saying goodbye. Why did he take her heart with him?

--

When he was presented with the detention schedule, he knew there was no escaping it. He'd called in too many favors and avoided her too much. It was only a matter of time before someone became suspicious enough to guess. He tried not to think about it, half-hoping she would be civil, half-hoping she would hit him with the full force of her righteous anger so his guilt would be satisfied. Draco laughed at himself. Always a glutton for punishment.

--

Did it have to be in the same room? There were too many memories there, concentration would be out of the question. Not that overseeing a detention of scrubbing cauldrons demanded her full attention, but the less she was reminded, the better her sanity fared. This would be too much. She tried not to think about it, half-hoping he would get a replacement again, half-hoping he would wear his old façade. Then she could hate him with the fullest extent of her wrath.

It was 9:55 and she could put it off no longer. She began her walk to the dungeons, heart hammering in her throat. He probably wouldn't show. Even if he did he'd be late. There would be plenty of time to collect herself as she instructed the students on their evening duties.

She turned down the corridor and walked to the second door on the right, pushing it open. She had intended on setting up. Instead, she was met with the sight of all the cleaning materials organized in piles for two students, instructions written in a neat script on the board, and Draco standing beside it, chalk in hand.

If her body were responding to her brain, she would have gaped. Instead she froze, fear and uncertainty evident in her eyes. She'd had no time to collect herself, no idea what to say. What do you say at a time like this?

If only to slow his heart and prevent a sweat from forming on his brow, he set the chalk down to break the silence, dusting off his hands. His eyes never left hers, and he did not try and pretend. "Hello, Ginevra."

It took all of her self-control not to forget the weeks of silence and heartache and bury herself in his too-warm embrace, but somehow she managed to steel her nerves. Her voice was strong and left no room for debate. Her face was still and serious as she spoke. "That's not my name, Malfoy."

With that as her quiet fury, she broke their staring game, leaving Draco frozen, agog. This was the last thing he expected. He was not prepared to deal with mature apathy. He knew he should feel relieved, but there was something in the pit of his heart that suffered. A small part of himself that threatened to die if what she said were true. He did not understand it, not even remotely, but his sudden necessity to speak was so strong it broke into his voice. "What do you mean that's not—?"

As if on cue a Slytherin boy and a Gryffindor girl filed into the small room, ending all possibility for discussion. They were no more than second years, eyes wide and terrified; there was no doubt Peeves had filled their heads with visions of toe hangings and Forbidden Forest errands.

Ginny could bear the silence no longer, and so walked in front of the cleaning supplies, her back turned to Draco. "For your detention tonight, you are to scrub all of these cauldrons clean. Without magic. Please deposit your wands on the table along with your robes and anything you wish to keep clean."

They approached the table in blind fear, each collecting their materials. Ginny spoke again. "You'll find any instructions you need on the board, as there is to be no talking for the duration of your detention. You may return back to your dormitories only when every cauldron has been cleaned and I have approved it. You may begin."

The only sound in the room was the harsh scrubbing of brushes and the gentle slosh of water in buckets. Ginny was glad it covered the sound of her quickened breathing. The room was sweltering, but the only place to lie anything down was the table. It would bring back too much to hide behind a plastic smile.

Draco was beyond impressed by her cool demeanor, but it gave him no sense of peace about the situation. How could she possibly be so unaffected by his presence? Just being in the same room with her was enough to make him regret eating dinner. Anxious panic had a grip on his lungs and he was forced to sit down, afraid the lack of oxygen would make his legs lose strength at the epitome of an inopportune moment. He shook his head. Before he had tried to ignore her, avoid her, stay as far away as he could if only to sort things out, but it had done no good. He had no more clarity on why she frequented his dreams than he had before their encounter. And he couldn't very well talk to her here. He struggled to find a way to speed things up, an idea appearing after an hour of detention.

Silently, he cast a Scourgify spell on the nearest cauldron while the young Slytherin was wetting his brush. When he returned to his work, he found the cauldron spotless. Confused, he looked up to consult the board's instructions, and instead met Draco's stare. Draco brought a finger to his lips, unable to hide a smirk as he winked. The Slytherin looked confused, but asked no questions, grateful for the reprieve, nodding that he understood before moving to the next cauldron.

Draco had to space it out so that his agent would not be discovered, but soon the cauldrons were nearly finished after only two hours. The young Gryffindor girl was working on a cauldron very close to the Slytherin now, and so when Draco added his two cents, she immediately broke the silence. "You're not supposed to use magic!"

Ginny's head whipped around to where the students were working, quickly crossing the space between them. "I said no talking."

"But he's using magic! He was getting his brush wet and then suddenly his whole cauldron was clean, it's how he's been getting done so fast."

The Slytherin rolled his eyes. "Or maybe it's because I don't want to spend any more time stuck in this room with a Gryffindor git like you!"

"You're just sore because McGonagall caught you cheating and your father couldn't get you out of it like he does with Snape!"

"At least my father has that kind of sway here—"

"Enough!"

The voice they heard was not the one anyone expected. The students and Ginny turned to look where Draco was standing ramrod straight, his eyes closed, expression grim. The student's banter had been too familiar, had reminded him too much of what he used to be. What they used to be. Even the students' banter had an undercurrent of the same unexplored attraction to which Draco was prisoner. He'd had to stop it because if he hadn't, he would have looked directly at her. And that would have ended everything.

Draco took a cleansing breath and opened his eyes, keeping his gaze trained on the students. "You're done with detention for the night. Get back to your dormitories now."

The students were rightly afraid, and they looked at each other questioningly. The small girl turned to Ginny. "I thought you said—"

"Now."

He hadn't raised his voice, but the effect was the same. The Slytherin boy turned tail and ran out the door, and close behind him was the young girl.

Ginny's mouth was dry; she had no idea what to think. She swallowed against the lump in her throat that dared to hope that maybe, just maybe he wanted to talk things through. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyebrows creased with confusion. "What was that, Malfoy?"

"Don't call me that."

He stepped from his perch by the blackboard and slowly began the walk to her side of the room. "I don't know how you can call me that after what happened with us. I didn't know what to think, Gin. You weren't like the other girls, you wouldn't leave my head, and if it meant cleaning every single one of those cauldrons by hand I would have done it just to talk to you."

He stood a few inches from her, emotion thick in his throat. "I don't know what it is, and I doubt it's worth the risk. But I don't know what else to do."

He reached his arm out to her, moving to hold her close, but she stepped backward, holding a hand in front of her, "No, Draco."

Her simple refusal was enough to make his passion burn with anger at her latest jab. His teeth grit together to keep him from shouting.

Ginny shook her head, tears balancing on the brink of her eyes. "You could have talked to me. You could have found me wherever I was, I was always waiting. Waiting for you to explain why you left without even saying goodbye. Were you ashamed? Were you embarrassed that you mingled yourself with me, the blood traitor? Or was I really naïve enough to think that I was different? Tell me that, and maybe I'll stay."

Draco was completely taken aback. She had hit upon the one action he didn't understand. Nothing he knew seemed right; he'd wanted to stay with every fiber of his being, and yet he had left, forsaking his own will in the hopes that she would recover and be better without him. Her eyes were filled with hurt, a solitary tear streaking against her burning face. He wanted to give her the answer, he wanted to give her everything, but the words were so foreign he didn't know how to begin them.

She shook her head, a sarcastic smirk coloring her expression. "I thought not. You've got nothing to say. And I'm through waiting for you."

She fought against her strongest wish to curl her body around his and never let go, shaking the image from her head instead. He was a mistake, and he had nothing to give her.

So she left.

--


	3. Chapter 3

Draco wasn't sure how long he stood there, frozen, staring at the place where she was standing when she told him goodbye. That wasn't how it was supposed to happen; he went over everything in his speech, trying to find the flaw that had made her leave him. How could she reject what he knew was so true?

It had stolen away inside him, unbidden and unwanted, but slowly and surely, his harsh hatred for the youngest Weasley had turned from passion's dark side to that of admiration. She was fiery and intelligent, witty and so unbearably beautiful he ached to think of it. And if he had been taught to love, he would have known its beginnings well enough to tell her.

Eventually he left, unsure where his feet were taking him, but he could tell it was away from his dormitory. He arrived at the threshold of the Room of Requirement. He needed to understand; he needed to know what it was that was burning so fiercely inside it threatened to consume them both. Puzzled, he looked to see there was already a door, hanging ajar. The room was already in use.

Pushing it open the slightest amount, he recognized the room immediately. It was the room he had just left, the long table standing ominously with a Gryffindor robe upon it, the clock on the opposite wall frozen at 3:10 a.m. And in the corner furthest from the door was a young woman with fiery red hair, hugging her knees and crying shamelessly.

Her sobs brought out a strange reaction in Draco. A sudden panic gripped his chest and sorrow filled his heart. An immediate need to protect her, to hold her until there was no water left in her beautiful eyes was so undeniably strong he did not have the time to wonder at its origin.

He crossed the dimly lit room in four long steps, ignoring her cries of surprise and dragging her up to his chest, his arms encircling her fast. Her initial reaction to his embrace was of relief and gratitude, but quickly her pride took control and fought against it, freeing herself with some trouble. "Get away from me!"

She made a break for the door, but he was faster. He couldn't let her get away. He closed it with one hand, catching her in his other arm before pinning her between the door and his body. It was so familiar; it was nearly an exact replica of their first meeting. But this time was different. This time, Draco knew exactly why she couldn't leave. His face was a breath from hers, and his pleading grey eyes were locked with hers of brown.

"Give me one chance to do this right."

Her heart was breaking with every word he spoke. She shook her head, tears flowing in earnest now. "I can't, Draco, I—"

He cut her off, not allowing her to finish her rambling thought. "Yes, you can. I will do whatever it takes to keep you here, where you belong," he wasn't sure who his candor surprised more.

"I can't—"

He pressed closer to her, molding his body to hers. "You can. Look at me, Gin," he waited for her tearful gaze to meet his. He shrugged, at a loss for words, "Have you ever seen me like this before? Needy? Desperate? Incoherent? That alone isn't convincing enough that something is different with you?" One of his hands wandered to her hip, tracing her form up and down, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose, his finals words laced with self-amazement, "Why can't you admit there's something here that's more than simple attraction?"

The final card was played, and the dam of her emotions snapped, a sob breaking through as her eyes pleaded for mercy. Draco could take no more of it. He pressed his lips to hers with such ardent passion it would melt the hardest of hearts. He felt her answer the kiss and breathed a sigh of relief into her mouth, holding her closer, willing away everything else but this moment, where his lips moved with hers in the deepest of longings, speaking of a need they had not yet quelled. He held her face between his palms, dipping his tongue into her waiting mouth, a frustrated sigh escaping from her throat. She broke the kiss, gasping slightly, rubbing his nose with hers.

A shaky breath preceded his question. "So?"

"I can't—"

"Ginny, will you just—"

It was her turn for interruptions. "I can't say no anymore."

Pure relief surged through his veins. "Oh, thank Merlin."

Their kiss was instantaneous, her fingers threading through his silken hair, pulling his head closer to hers. She wrapped both legs around his midsection as his arms wound around her back, supporting her above the floor. He left her lips to press feverish kisses down her throat and around to her shoulders, latching on to her pulse point just to hear her moan. She held him to her neck as she spoke.

"Just promise me we'll figure this out eventually."

He turned her around, walking towards the table as she tugged at his tie, his answer against her skin, "Promise. Not now."

"No, not now. Later."

"Much later."

His tone was comforting, for it spoke of the same insatiable desire that ruled every one of her senses. Draco moved to place her on the edge of the table, but as she came into contact with it, the hard wood changed to soft, silken linens, and the old splintering table became a high four poster bed, the classroom around them transforming to a bedroom, a small fire burning where the blackboard used to be. Her eyes danced with wonder. "Room of Requirement, indeed."

"Good. I hated that table," Draco smirked as she laughed, then covering her lips with his own.

Ginny's arms walked quickly backward to the newly appearing headboard as Draco followed her up, never once breaking their kiss. Both kicked off their shoes and toed off their socks as Ginny's head approached a pillow. He reached an arm behind her back and lifted her slightly, pulling down the comforter with haste to reveal sleek black sheets. Ginny pushed him away for a moment; their eyes met in wanton need.

Her small hands found the front of his shirt, tugging at the buttons until they succumbed to her will and the shirt fell open, revealing a slice of his muscled chest. She licked her lips unconsciously; it sent a rush of anticipation to his groin, making him grow even harder than before. His now-feverish hands tore at her blouse, buttons popping in every direction before he discarded it over his shoulder, divesting himself of his robe and shirt while she reached behind, unhooking her bra. Their lips met again as he shoved her straps down her shoulders, ridding her of the offending garment.

The intensity of skin-on-skin was overwhelming, their moans of pleasure a delirious duet as he ground against her once, her aching peaks taut against his toned chest. The wetness between her thighs was growing in time with their desperation; she was more than ready for him, all of him. He hovered above her on his arms as she fumbled with his belt buckle, drawing her earlobe into his mouth. He whispered huskily as she started on his zip.

"There is nothing I would rather do than torture you like last time. I want to feel you clench around my fingers and drive anything else from your mind. I want to make you scream my name so loudly that someone will think I'm killing you in here," he kissed a burning trail from the juncture of her neck to the valley between her breasts, hands massaging roughly, "But if I don't have you right now," he rolled his hips against her, pressing his erection into her upper thigh as he slid back up her body, "I'm going to _die_."

His blatant necessity was pushing her closer to the edge. Frantic for contact, she pulled him upward and attached her mouth to his, tugging at her skirt and knickers. Draco wrested them the rest of the way off; he shed his boxers, eliminating the final barrier between them, using the end of his sanity in one last sentence.

"Please tell me this is okay."

She rolled her eyes and panted a frustrated sigh, latching her arms around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair, "For fuck's sake, Draco."

That was all it took for him to lose complete control; he entered her with such force her head nearly hit the wood behind her. Instead she pressed a palm against it, using it as leverage as she adjusted to their joining once again. It did not take near as long as the last time; she pressed her thighs as far to the side as she could, cradling his hips as he angled upward, thrusting down into her warmth, deep and hard. She met him stroke for stroke, pulling him further inside as she clenched her inner walls.

"Don't do that if you want me to last," was his hoarse whisper at her ear.

Her body craved completion more than air; her mouth found his once, then again as he rained kisses on her face, down her neck and shoulders. He began to pick up the pace, but she was ready for him, both arms reaching behind her and pushing with all her might, increasing the depth of every thrust. He reached one hand down between them, stimulating the small nub that would make her scream release. She bit her lip; one of her arms left the headboard, her fingers biting into his shoulder calling forth a groan from deep in his throat. He pressed harder against her opening as their hips met time and time again.

Her desperation was making her vision cloudy, "Harder, Draco. Harder, please I'm so close…"

He drew one firm nipple into the cavern of its mouth, worrying it with his teeth as he bucked harder against her. Her ankles bit into his back as she pulled him further, further, his deepest strokes stretching her to new heights of pleasure she had never known before. The tight coil within her constricted around him, fire raging through her veins as the tension became too much; tremors ran through her legs as she could no longer keep her whimpers muted. Openly she moaned as he furiously rubbed her center, his eyes screwed up in the picture of concentration, determined to prove he could do this right. "Gin, you're so tight..."

His name was an endless mantra on her lips, escalating in volume as he hit the perfect place inside her again and again. He wound his arms under her back, angling her up as he continued to thrust. He pulled most of the way out before stretching his legs out underneath him so he was seated, shoving roughly into her as he pressed her down onto his length. He reached her in the deepest way; her body pulled him the slightest bit further as she came, rocking hard against him. His arms were strong around her, a comforting cage as her arms looped around his neck, holding on for dear life as he continued to thrust.

No sooner had she came down from her first orgasm was he rolling his hips against her again, using her inner tremors to help her toward completion a second time. Again his mouth found her pulse point, and it was enough. "Fuck, I'm going to—again, I—ah!"

This orgasm was so intense, it pulled him over the edge with her, his head falling on her shoulder as he spilled his seed within her. As they spiraled back to coherent thought, she rested her cheek against his, her breathing shallow and hot in his ear; she could hear his labored breaths, deep and greedy, in her own. A small, satisfied smile made its presence known on her lips, and their joining became an embrace of the most intimate variety.

He brought his forehead to hers, brushing her sweat-damp hair from her eyes. He placed his hands on either side of her hips, helping her lift off his lap as he pulled out of her. She felt the last of her strength leave in a sigh, and she collapsed onto the mattress, sated and satisfied.

As he lay beside her, he turned her to him as he pulled the sheet over top, draping a leg over her possessively, his hand still resting on her hip. He kissed her once, slow and sweet, speaking volumes of affection he was scarcely beginning to learn. She broke the kiss and cuddled closer, her nose resting in the curve of his neck. Tracing a pattern along her bare back, he closed his eyes, listening to her heartbeat slow to normal.

"Don't leave me tonight."

His eyes flew open to meet hers, not altogether concerned, but wary nonetheless. "I don't care about the future, we'll figure that out when we get there. But for now, just stay. Hold me while we're sleeping, wake me with a kiss, and stay with me."

"Of course."

"I mean it."

He couldn't help his smirk as he answered, "I know, Ginevra. And I will," he held her tighter to prove his point, "I couldn't leave you if I tried."


	4. Chapter 4

She woke at 3:09, the contended smile she'd been sleeping with quickly fading to confusion; the space beside her was empty. Abruptly she sat up, wrapping the sheet around her. How could he leave? He'd promised her he would stay…and she'd believed him. Like the idiot she was, she believed him, Draco Malfoy, the least trustworthy person she'd ever met. Tears began to sting her eyes as she realized she'd been fooled. Again.

Ginny hugged her knees to her chest, struggling to cover herself with the flimsy black sheet. Rejection coursed through her as her breathing ran short, and she let her embarrassment cover her body in a blush. How could he do this to her?

Her grief was so great she thought it would consume her whole. She was so foolish; how had she let it get to this? A promise from a Malfoy was nothing but the promise of a broken heart.

A shattering glass broke through the silence, ringing around her as her head snapped up; she gazed at a figure across the room, standing in nothing but his underwear. He stepped over the broken shards as his eyebrows knit together, "Gin, what's—"

Her arms were around him in such a hurry he didn't even see her move. She wrapped herself around him, both her legs gripping his hips, her whole body embracing his. It took a moment for Draco to recover from her sudden attack, but eventually his arms slid around her bare back, helping support her weight. Her ragged breathing was laced with the aftermath of sobs. Her head nestled into the curve of his shoulder; his heartbeat was a comforting sound she felt against her chest. Inhaling deeply, she slowly slid down his body, the tips of her toes reaching the floor as he held her against him. He brushed a strand of hair from her face as he looked at her, a confused amusement in his eyes.

Ginny's hands framed his face, running over his features as if to memorize them. Her thumb traced the shape of his lips; Draco's eyes fell closed as he tried to still his train of thought, tried to ignore the fact that she was not wearing a thing, his body now humming with anticipation. When he looked at her again, he found the same desire in her gaze. He claimed her lips with his, pressing her body tight against his, molding her curves to his hard plains. She replied in earnest, ravishing his mouth, convincing herself he was still there, holding her fast. Her mouth began to wander his neck, whispering her reprimand as she did so.

"What did I say about leaving?"

She latched onto his ear lobe, worrying it with her teeth; it called forth a deep moan from his throat. He had never seen her like this before. "I went for water, Gin."

She considered explaining her reaction, choosing instead to let her small hands roam his chest in a feather-light caress, drawing her nails over his skin, relishing in every ripple of muscle, every quickened breath it drew from him. He barely heard her broken whisper as she moved back to his neck, "You scared me."

Realization began to dawn on Draco, and he crooked a finger under her chin, raising her head gently until her eyes met his, "Gin," his voice was low and serious, "What did _I_ say about leaving?" He pressed his lips to hers in a soul-deep kiss, breaking it only to hold her closer, whispering against her hair as she curled into his chest, "I mean it. For as long as it's up to me, I'm not going anywhere."

Her arms wound around his neck as he placed his hands on her hips, walking her slowly backward as their mouths met again; her lips fought against his for dominance, but as he drew her lower lip between his teeth, he named himself the victor and kissed her until she was thoroughly breathless. He hoisted her onto the edge of the bed; her feet hooked around the backs of his knees, causing his hands to fall on either side of her thighs, supporting himself on the mattress. Their eyes met for an instant, their heads a breath apart before Draco ducked his head, brushing his nose and mouth over the tops of her breasts, appraising her in the most intimate fashion. Ginny's head fell backward as he continued his gentle assault; she did not notice his muted whispers for many moments to come.

He was rambling to himself as he nuzzled her chest, neck, shoulders, and back again, trying to find some sort of explanation for the tightness in his chest. There was something he needed to say. Something he'd never truly understood until he'd seen the relief in her eyes when she'd realized he was still there. Such release, such emotion could only mean one thing, and instead of running as fast as he could the opposite way, he was calculating the cost of keeping it alive. Could she bear it?

She caught snippets of his monologue once she started listening, "Not fair to her…why care, just break it off when it…couldn't stop if I tried…want to tell her—"

"I love you," the whispered admission passed her lips before she could conceive of keeping it to herself.

Draco's motions immediately stilled, something new in his eyes. A true smile, without a hint of a smirk, lit his face, his eyebrows creased in astonished disbelief, "Love me?" was all he could manage.

She nodded slowly, taking his face between her palms and kissing him slowly, sweetly, her promise clearly written in every subtle pressure of her lips. When she pulled away, she quirked an eyebrow in question of his response, and he laughed slightly; she already had his mannerisms down pat.

"You realize, of course, that I'm far more trouble than I'm worth?"

Her hand grasped behind his neck, a devilish glint in her eye before she pulled him to lie on top of her, "You're telling me."

--

"How long do we have?"

"It's Saturday, don't worry about it, Gin—"

"No. Until you have to leave."

They lay in their aftermath, limbs tangled with sheets mingled with sweat, her hair plastered to his chest. Draco sighed heavily; his arm wound around her shoulders and held her close, "A few months at the most."

Ginny felt like she'd been kicked in the stomach. They finally figure things out, and they have no more than a few months to spend it together. Calling on her Gryffindor courage and loyalty, she took a cleansing breath, "Then we'll just have to make it count."

Draco nodded along, absently tracing patterns on her back, "I won't be able to give you any warning. One day, I'll just be gone. No explanations, no cover story. My father will come to collect, and I'll be in their ranks, Ginevra. I will be expected to kill or be killed."

Her eyes creased close with recognition, "I know."

"And I don't want you to wait for me. When the time comes, I want you to forget you ever knew this side of me. Run off with Potter or someone, get married, have babies, and forget us, forget this, forget all of it. Because if you're caught, my side will use it against you—"

"And mine would never understand."

He sighed deeply. "Right."

It was a strange sort of quiet while Ginny thought about her next phrase. There wasn't much left to be said, but there was something tugging at the back of her mind, something important, "Draco…what about after?"

"After what?"

"After it's all over, if Harry wins, or even if he doesn't—"

"Either way I'll probably be dead, or thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my wretched existence," he locked his eyes with hers, willing her to do this one thing for him, if nothing else, "Don't dream, Ginevra. We don't have that luxury. All we can do is live; live until reality has it's say. Until then, no one is going to pull me away from you."

She took a small solace in his final words, "No one?"

He snickered, a delightfully wicked sound deep in his throat as he brushed her lips with his, "I'd like to see them try."

--

From that point on, they wasted no time. Every spare moment they had they dedicated to each other. The Room of Requirement took on many different looks for them, varying between a bedroom, a study, a kitchen, and even on occasion the Prefect's bathroom, the large tub inviting and warm. With the Golden Trio gone and Draco the official outcast of the school, there were not many around to catch on, and they exploited it to the full. They made use of the time they were given, not willing to give themselves the smallest room for remorse when it was all said and done. There would be no regrets, of that they were sure.

Ginny never doubted that she loved him. He was still an arrogant, presumptuous git, but he was hers. His haughty humor and air of gentility were all part of the largest fraud she'd ever seen, but it completed him. His mask of Pure Blood supremacy was necessary to his survival; not to say he didn't still think that, but she didn't have the time to change everything about him. All she wanted was to hear that he loved her.

He'd never quite gotten around to responding that night when everything changed, and every time she'd thought to bring it up, she was slightly distracted by some wonderful thing or another that he was doing to her traitorous body, and decided it really wasn't that important to hear it aloud when she knew it in her heart. But inevitably, once the post-coital haze has lifted, she scolded herself for getting caught up, and the matter would trouble her again. It was obvious he cared, or he wouldn't risk their relationship at all, but Draco did not know the power love held. Ginny had a feeling that if she knew that he loved her, really knew, that they could overcome anything if they tried.

One particular night, he found her as she worked a patrol in the dungeons, wrapping a strong arm around her waist and dragging her into a dark alcove, his lips immediately against her neck. She sighed back into him, leaning all of her weight against his body, completely surrendering to him. From behind, he unbuttoned her blouse and moved her bra aside, massaging both breasts roughly. Through her breathless reverie, she noticed the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms, but there was something there that hadn't been before.

Draco was oblivious to her examination as he ground against her, still kneading her roughly. Ginny's breath hitched first from his ministrations, then from recognition. The Dark Mark. He'd taken it. Willing the tears not to come, she twisted away from the Mark and into his embrace, looping a leg behind his and pulled him closer, fastening her mouth soundly to his in a blazing kiss. Before she lost herself to sensation, she had one single thought: it wouldn't be long now.

This was the breaking point for Ginny; she had to hear him say it. She knew the Mark would be an inevitable step before he left her, but it was a commitment. A commitment to something that she could never be, and a strange, jealous need formed inside of her. She knew the Dark Lord, probably better than any one of his followers. Why would Draco risk his life for Voldemort and not for her?

She arrived in the Room that evening intent on finding answers, but she waited and waited, and still he did not come. Fear started to seep into her thoughts; it couldn't be…not so soon…he'd said months, they had only shared six weeks together. Driven with worried need, she dashed out of the room, scouring the castle for the smallest sign of him, checking outside the Slytherin common room, the Great Hall, all of his classes, the Prefect's bathroom, anywhere she could think to look. Panic claimed her rapidly beating heart as tears began to sting her eyes. If ever she hated the war before, it paled in comparison. It had taken the man she loved.

In a blind grasp at hope, she wandered back to the Room of Requirement in a daze, willing him to be lounging on the large bed that sprawled out before her. It was empty.

She ran at the bed with all her might, collapsing on it and grabbing the largest pillow, burying her face into it as she screamed. How dare they? How dare he? Why did she open her heart to someone who couldn't even say goodbye? Logically, she knew it was impossible, but her broken heart ached for the slightest salve, and he had nothing to offer her. She tried to imagine his arms around her, comforting, soothing her, but it did nothing but increase her tears. She threw the pillow across the room, curling into a ball on the bed. She felt a slight roughness under her cheek and moved away, and there she found a note, a scribbled swatch of parchment, no larger than her palm.

_I told you how it would happen. Forget me, Ginevra, and maybe one day you'll understand._

It was more than what it said that was the end for her. She knew he'd risked his life to deliver a simple message that, save for her name, could have gone to anyone. He had never said he loved her because he wanted her to move on, and that was the only way she would be able to do it. Clutching the note to her chest, she felt the dam of her emotions break as she fell against the soft mattress, never to be held by him again.

Ginny had never cried so hard in her entire life.


	5. Epilogue

_Five Years Later_

--

Everyone had their way of coping this time of year. There were always memorial services, anniversaries of the death of one friend or another. It was a time where the ones that were left bonded together out of sheer necessity, to survive the pain of losing them again. Another year they were not alive to share in the new world they'd fought for.

It usually started around March for the rest of the world, but for Ginevra Weasley, it was always in early December. She told herself it was a prequel to the holiday blues, that the memories of her friends and family seemed stronger at Christmas than they did on their death dates. But if she were honest for a moment, her heart would tell her otherwise.

It was in December he'd left her, five years ago today.

After the fact, she'd tried everything to forget him intentionally, throwing herself into her studies and Prefect duties with such passion she nearly had herself fooled. But then the night would come, and when she would inevitably wake at 3:09, she would cry softly in her bed, willing her foolish heart to let him go. It was the same every night, at least the nights she slept.

But, as time progressed, and the memory of his arms faded, she found it easier to ignore the dull, muted pain. It was a sort of coat over her shoulders at all times, and eventually she could even convince herself that she was over him.

So it took her by complete surprise when she picked up her copy of the Prophet that morning and saw his face splashed on the front page. The photo Draco was standing before a full Wizengamot, receiving his trial date. The headline nearly screamed to her in its large, black letters: "Draco Malfoy Found: Death Eater Trials Re-Opened".

Ginny dropped her mug of coffee as the photo Draco sneered in her direction, not even having the mind to clean the carpet before it stained. He was alive?

She'd tried not to follow the Death Eater trials too closely when they'd started, knowing that if he was tried he would be found guilty, and the last thing she needed floating through her head were intangible questions of "What if?". But it had been hard to miss the millions of headlines when he'd dropped off the face of the earth two weeks before his preliminary trial. Foul play was suggested, and no one cared about the lives of former Death Eaters. She had mourned the day as his death, because for all she knew, it was. And now he was standing there, sneering like the same presumptuous git she'd fallen in love with, and she felt the familiar palpitations in her chest. Her heart never beat for anyone else like it did for him.

--

_Three Years Earlier_

He had tried. He had honestly tried to outrun his past, but it was to no avail. No amount of money would silence the urge he felt to return to England from his hiding in France. It seemed no matter the amount of time, no matter how worn the memory became, he could not stop picturing her face.

He had known her with the edge of childhood still lingering about her features, but he would recognize her anywhere. Her lush auburn hair, the specific light in her hazelnut eyes when he would catch her off guard, her wit, her spirit, her embrace, _her_. Everything was her. And before, his father had been able to "influence" him to do Lord Voldemort's bidding, but he was a grown man now, and since Azkaban had killed both his mother and father, he was finally in charge of his own decisions.

He had paced the floor in his small, underground apartment day in and day out, trying to scrape together some semblance of evidence to prove he was not an active member in service of the Dark Lord. Which was entirely true. When he'd left her the note that night so long ago, he had every intention of serving Lord Voldemort with all the devotion of his father, but something didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't that he did not believe in the cause, but it was not as strong as his father. He could no longer imagine taking his father's place as a loyal, devoted servant of a man who hid from Potter. It seemed weak. And if there was one thing Draco could not tolerate, it was weakness.

He'd scarcely realized it, but damn that girl, she had changed him. He could no longer blindly follow a leader who lacked the commitment to affect change. But where was he to go? The Order? They'd turn him in without a second thought. He'd do the same were he in their position.

So he'd turned to the only other option available to him: sabotage. Just because his heart did not follow the Dark Lord didn't mean he wasn't a Malfoy. He had been trained in the subtle arts of wordplay and misdirection since before he could walk. If there was one thing he could do, it was minimizing damage. Were he honest, he'd have admitted it was all for her. She ruled his devotion now, and if it meant defying Voldemort, it meant defying Voldemort.

If only he'd thought to keep some kind of record of what he'd done. Then, he would be cleared. Unfortunately, the only record he had from those times was personal to say the least.

Draco stopped his pacing as he remembered the enchanted box he kept under his bed. Crossing the apartment, he ducked under his bed frame and produced a small, wooden box. Muttering the spell to open it, he looked at the old sheets of parchment with a sad smile. He'd always felt that she had deserved more than what he'd given her as a parting word, and so over the next few months, he'd written countless letters to her, never addressed, never mentioning her name for fear of incriminating her if they were discovered, but it was all he had.

He had detailed every deed he'd done against the Dark Lord in some feeble attempt at penitence, trying to win her back one good deed at a time, knowing full well she would never know what he did for her. Back when times were dark, he mused over the idea of enchanting it somehow so upon his death, she would receive the letters, but he knew no magic strong enough, and she had probably moved on anyway.

The news he received in his small outpost was obviously limited at best. He had received exactly four copies of the Daily Prophet in his two years in hiding, basically whatever his connections could get him, and in those four papers, there was one photo of her. She was hidden in the background of her family as they stood around the grave of her brother. Her face was the epitome of sorrow; he'd seen that look before. Nevertheless he'd kept it, determined to never be the reason for that face again.

Where that fit into his current scheme of redemption he had no idea. But he had never been one to hide away. If he was going to be with her, he had to be in her world, and her world included a trial and an inevitable term in Azkaban. The thought of the place gave him chills, but with a cleansing breath he forced them back. He deserved it, but more than that, she was worth it.

The idea of her and Potter flitted across his mind, but he shook it away as he sat down to write to his lawyer. If she was with Potter when he got back, he'd kiss the first Dementor he saw.

--

_Present time, two weeks after the article_

She did not care. She did not care. She did not care…

Why was there no mention of him in the Prophet? Really, it was just bad journalism. He was obviously the biggest story since the Fall, and not so much as a trial date or a brief explanation of the five-year hole in the story.

But there was no reason it mattered to her. No. None. She had moved on. She was interested in that man Hermione worked with in the Ministry. He was attractive. He'd asked her on a date. They'd had fun. She'd kissed him goodbye.

She let out a resigned sigh, hanging her head as she rested against the wall. Yes, she had. And she'd felt nothing. And she'd promised to Owl, which she'd never found the time to do.

The only information she knew was that he was alive. And he hadn't tried to find her. That should be enough to tell her it was still over. It had been over for five long years.

--

Truly, it had cost him an exorbitant amount of money to keep those hungry fiends at the Prophet quiet, but the last thing he needed was the press to be all over this. The press would only make the public care, make his sentencing seem like the final banishment of all things Dark Lord. And the last thing he wanted was to disrupt her new life; when he'd served his term, he would find her and explain.

He'd explain everything if she'd listen.

--

_Four Months Later_

Ginny had scoured every inch of the Prophet (and even the Quibbler) in search of information on him every day since the article. Today was the first day it had paid off.

A small paragraph hidden in the corner of the Social News read the following:

_The trial of Draco Malfoy came to a close yesterday after new evidence was brought to the attention of the Wizengamot. Malfoy's claims had been detailed in old love letters from his days as a Death Eater, but had not been confirmed by any substantial evidence until yesterday. His Apparation license will be on continual probation, and he is not allowed to hold public office. The freeze on his accounts will be terminated marginally every six months in accordance with good behavior. _

Ginny's heart caught in her throat as tears immediately overflowed her eyes, unable to think clearly. She propped her head up on her hand, her elbow resting on her kitchen table as it began to sink in.

Cleared. He'd been cleared.

As her mind continued to dwell on the subject, the issue of his evidence began to eat at her initial hope. It was mere moments before she realized nothing would ever happen between them again. He'd written the letters to his lover, and she hadn't received a single thing. He'd moved on, and now he was free to live his life. The good in Ginny tried to be happy for him, but such incredible sorrow flowed from her heart and to her eyes that it was impossible to swallow her sobs.

Hours passed in the span of minutes, and daylight faded over her cold coffee and stale, half-eaten bagel. Dusk brought with it heavy clouds, and by night there was not a star in sight.

It seemed the weather was on her side for once as it began to pour down rain. The sound was the only comfort she could find, and she lost herself in it, unable to deny herself the emotional release any longer. She felt the rain on the back of her neck and realized she'd left the window open. Groaning, she stood to close it, turning off the lights in the main room of her flat. She moved to the front door, intending to lock it when she heard a loud noise from down the hall. It was two in the morning; it was probably some drunken idiot stumbling back to his place. Wiping her eyes, she moved to open the door, ready to assist with whatever was on the other side.

A very wet, very real Draco Malfoy was standing with his hand poised to knock; his eyes were as red as hers, though his wet hair shrouded them. Ginny froze, her hand gripping the doorknob for dear life; her knees didn't have the strength to keep her standing if she were to let go. A shallow breath escaped him in an attempt to steady his rapid heartbeat, his voice deep as his shimmering eyes locked with hers. "Gin," was all he said before he caught her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

Ginny could scarcely believe it was happening, that he was there, really there, his warm body molding around hers, his clothing making hers damp wherever they touched. His palm cupped her cheek, pressing her mouth firmly to his, not allowing any room for argument. She was too stunned to answer, she merely stood there, still holding the doorknob, eyes shut against the hallucination. Her mind was playing tricks on her again; surely this wasn't real.

His mouth moved softly against hers, his tongue tracing the shape of her sweet mouth, willing her to respond, to react in any manner. He pulled away the slightest bit, releasing the kiss with a small pop, the only sound besides her quickened breathing. His eyes roamed her face, reddened from crying, and the beginnings of hope began to swell in his chest. He whispered against her lips, the bridge of his nose resting against hers. "Please, Ginevra. Remember."

Her eyes finally opened, meeting his gaze with the same overwhelming intensity. She was breathless as her broken voice managed three words. "I never forgot."

Emotion surged in his throat; he could not hide his ecstasy. He crushed her body to his, his arms holding so tightly they bit into her back. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply, letting go the pain he'd carried for so long, relishing in the scent of her. Comforting. Sensual. Home. _His._

Her arms were around his neck, her head against his chest; tears of joy leaked from her eyes as the quickened beating of his heart rekindled the fire deep within her soul. She could feel her love flowing back through every inch of her long-dead heart, holding him so tightly her arms began to quake with the strain.

They stood there for a moment that was both infinite and infinitesimal, clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it. He nuzzled his head against her neck, exhaling heavily as he whispered in her ear, a constant mantra of the confession he never made. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

Without breaking their embrace, she nosed her way to press her forehead against his, repeating his words curiously. "You love me?"

There was no hesitation. "I love you. I've always loved you."

"You never told me."

"I know."

"I thought you were dead."

"I know."

She maneuvered herself so that her hands were against his chest; her fingers moved up the sides of his neck, continuing upward to trace his features like she had so long ago. His eyes slipped closed as the memory came flooding back, choking on emotion, determined not to show any weakness when she was obviously as fragile as him. The pad of her thumb ran around his lips, drawing a broken breath from deep within his throat. His blazing silver eyes opened as her hands stilled; she spoke.

"You scared me."

Barely daring to hope, he moved his arm from behind her back, running a hand up her arm and over her shoulder. He cupped her cheek in his palm, brushing away a tear with a feather-light caress. Her shining brown eyes met his, the smallest quirk of her lips betraying her cold façade. She took his hand in hers and kissed his palm, eyes creased closed in joy. When she met his gaze, they were both smiling through streaming tears.

Their mouths met in hurried passion as he walked forward, pushing her back into her room, kicking the door closed behind him. His hands framed her face as he begged entrance with his tongue; she immediately opened to him, releasing a sigh of relief, her breath warm on his face. He groaned as he tasted her; it was beyond what he remembered, so much more than he deserved. Tongues danced as he stepped out of his shoes and socks, nearly losing his balance more than once. Her arms looped under his, holding him against her until his feet were bare.

He continued walking her backward, aiming for her bedroom, but she pushed him against a wall, molding her hungry form to his. He flipped their positions as he ground against her, fastening his mouth to her pulse, earning himself a moan of approval and need. He had no shame as he marked her; he was claiming her. There was nothing between them now. Nothing but the suddenly unnecessary clothing they were both still wearing.

His hands wandered up the front of her shirt, delighting in the small tremors he felt building as he brushed a particularly ticklish spot. The tips of his fingers traced the cups of her bra, his touch no more than a whisper of skin. She felt her nipples harden in response, threading her hands through his hair as she brought his mouth back to hers. She felt his caress continue slowly before his need to touch her was no longer bearable, and his hands found the hem of her shirt and quickly lifted it over her head; their kiss was only broken as the fabric passed between them.

He reached an arm behind to the clasp of her plain cotton bra and quickly released it, his hips meeting hers in an echo of motions to come as she slid the straps down her arms before it met with her shirt on the ground. Quickly she divested him of his jacket and dress shirt, leaving their upper bodies bare to each other. His hands curved around the swell of her hips, groaning as she rubbed against his painfully encased erection. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his torso as she kissed a burning trail down the side of his neck; he carried her to the bed on shaking legs, determined to keep strength long enough to do this right.

Ginny sat perched on the edge of her mattress, eye level with his pectoral muscles. She reached forward and started on his belt, trying not to tease him while relieving him of his restraints. When his pants had pooled around his feet he resumed their kiss, forcing her to lie down with the gentle pressure of his mouth against hers. Her head found a pillow as he kissed between the valley of her breasts, his hands kneading her roughly. Her moans were laced with heavy breathing, but it was nothing compared to his mouth. The feel of his warm, cavernous mouth closing around her nipple made her extremely aware of the wetness pooling between her thighs and the tension within that threatened to snap if he did not act soon.

His mouth continued to the fasten of her jeans; his hands abandoned her breasts to free the button and lower her zip, sliding her pants all the way down her legs, causing him to kneel between her thighs. He deposited them on the floor before running his hands up the backs of her legs, the ticklish spots on the backs of her knees causing her to twitch as he passed over them, his mouth hovering dangerously close to the waist of her knickers.

The thought of his mouth on her center sent her into overdrive, but she knew she did not have the patience to wait. She needed to feel him fully inside her more than she needed air; she had been empty for so long.

Ginny maneuvered her leg to rest between his thighs as he knelt above her, gathering what oxygen she could to form her breathless request. "It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture…" she bent her knee and let her leg slide between his, folding in towards her body, her foot brushing his very obvious arousal through his boxers. The way his eyes screwed shut told her he understood, and he hooked his thumbs into the elastic at his waist, removing his last barrier between them.

When he looked back, he found her mimicking his actions, slowly sliding her knickers down her legs. By the time they reached her knees, he could no longer stand it. He took hold of the fabric with one hand and tugged it forcefully down her legs, his other hand beneath her neck and snapping her body up to his. Her mouth opened in surprise, but before she could speak he covered it with a kiss. They fell near the center of the bed, Draco on top, his arousal hot and heavy against her stomach. She nearly cried out when she felt his tip at her entrance, spreading her legs wide, ready to accommodate him.

Everything in Draco was aching to bury himself to the hilt in her warmth, to claim every inch of her and forever cement his place in her life. Instead he hesitated, watching her beautiful form writhing in need, her fiery hair behind her like a halo, desire written in every movement of her hips, trying to complete their union. It was only a moment, but it felt like eternity, and it wasn't long before her questioning gaze met his eyes, warm with love she had never seen before.

"Draco, please…I need you."

Her voice brought him back to his senses, which were overwhelmed with the scent and feel of the woman beneath him. She framed his face with her hands, gasping in need of her completion. She tried to find the words to explain, her voice breaking in desire. "Draco, we'll—"

That was all it took. It was the way she said his name, no hint of distrust, love lingering in every syllable. He thrust all the way inside of her, reveling in the feel of her velvet walls embracing his length as her arms closed fast around him, her moan of triumph echoing in his ears. His hand dropped to their joining as they found a sinuous rhythm; he hit the perfect place inside her every time, his fingers circling her sensitive bud. The combination of sensation after being so long alone overloaded her senses, and she climaxed easily, spasm after spasm contracting around him. He buried himself deeper still, affixing his mouth to her neck to keep from spilling inside her.

When her aftershocks were waning, he took a deep breath, exhaling heavily as he began to pound into her again, her skin sensitized as he continued to bring her pleasure, needing her to feel how much he'd missed her, feel his promise in every stroke.

Ginny had tried to convince herself when he'd left that there was no way he'd made her feel so incredible, that no one was really that attuned to their lover's body, but as he rode out her first orgasm when he was so hard inside her, she felt everything come flooding back. He reached so deep within her sex she was sure he brushed her womb with every languid stroke, her mouth crying out as he continued the motion. One particular thrust increased the delightful friction, and she angled her hips, throwing a leg around his torso to keep him there. Her hands unfisted at this newfound pleasure, she brought them to either side of his face, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss, teeth clashing and tongues tasting in inexplicable haste. It quickened his pace, his own need for completion finally overtaking his self-control. He rubbed her center furiously, determined to take her over the edge with him.

Her voice was weak as she shouted her pleasure, a myriad of words escaping that she wasn't sure made any sense. "Draco…oh, I love you so much I ache…aahhh!"

He sent her over the edge with sensation, but it was the combination of her body's tightness and her tender words that sent him spiraling out of control, roaring his release as he pumped in and out to ride through her second orgasm, losing all sense of control in a strangled groan, spilling himself within her.

The moments after were marked only by their husky, mingled breath, their sated bodies losing strength as he collapsed on top of her and her arms fell limp, the slight sheen of sweat that covered them both causing them to stick together. He was reluctant to leave her warmth, to leave her most intimate embrace, but she seemed content to stay as they were for the time being, and instead he adjusted them so they lay side by side, his arm thrown over her hips as she burrowed closer to his chest.

Tears began to prick at Ginny's eyes, though she wasn't sure what for. Reading into her unsteady breathing, Draco kissed her forehead, explaining what he could in a soft murmur.

"I never dared to hope for this, Gin. I thought it'd be decades before I held you again. But your letters were the key, you were always the key for me."

"What letters? I never wrote you any letters."

"No, you didn't. But I wrote you. Every time I did something I thought you might look well on, I wrote you. There's thirty seven letters, and one day I hope you'll read them all."

Her heart warmed at the thought. He'd never truly left her, not even when she'd turned her back on him. "Draco, I—"

"Please don't tell me you have any sort of inconvenient relationship I have to deal with."

"No that's not—"

"No boyfriend? No husband? No Potter?"

Not pausing to wonder why Harry was his own category of sin, she shook her head and covered his mouth with her hand. "A moment, Draco?"

He pressed his lips to her fingers for a moment, and she took it as consent.

"I want you to listen to me. I love you with all of my everything, and there's nothing I want more than to say we can forget everything and pick up where we left off. But as glad as I am that you're here, I need time. We've been so long apart, and now you're suddenly back," she slid away from him, gasping at the loss of his size, but knowing it was inappropriate to finish the conversation with him still buried inside her, "but just because we make love doesn't mean we can be in love. It may not work."

Draco had not imagined this scenario; indeed the years had changed them. She could no longer trust just as he was learning how. With a deep breath he shrugged his shoulders, pulling her body closer, tangling their limbs as he kissed her softly. She could not help but respond, her traitorous body losing sight of her mind's goal.

It was he that pulled away even though she entreated him forward. "Give it one chance."

"We were nearly children, Draco."

"And since those days I have dreamed of having you in my life, for the rest of my life, until the day I die. I can't chalk that up to an adolescent phase, can you?"

She said nothing, though her eyes were warming.

"Once chance, Ginevra. Just one."

A slow smirk grew on her face, though it was not uncolored by fear. "I was planning on it."

--

_A few months later…_

He watched the clock on the nightstand as it read 3:08 a.m., the red numbers glaring at him as they had every night since his return, but he didn't mind. Draco had learned Ginny's numbers very quickly, nearly out of necessity.

If she was not in bed by 10:00 she would not tire until 12:23.

If she was not in bed by 12:23, she would not fall asleep without coaxing.

If she did not get up at precisely 7:05 every morning the rest of her day was ruined.

Dinner was always at 6:00 p.m., and there was hell to pay if he didn't show and hadn't told her.

She always awoke at 3:09 a.m. with a start, and if he was asleep she would curl around him and try to drift back to sleep, but if he was awake, she was often in need of convincing that he was still there.

Which often made it difficult to get her up at precisely 7:05 in the morning.

He'd asked her about it one night and received no answer, and since then he had forced himself awake every night she turned to him, determined to learn this idiosyncrasy, too. After 48 nights she told him, and while it cut him deeply that she was still afraid of his leaving, it touched him in some way to know that she remembered those early days more than she had originally let on. No matter the times he vowed never to leave, she still woke at 3:09 every morning, and every morning he was reminded of how his absence had changed her.

It only made him love her more. He knew one day it would be different, and then he would finally dig out that ring he'd had sized for her finger 27 days ago.

He watched as the clock turned to that fateful time, holding his breath, hoping that this night would be the night where in her heart of hearts she could trust him. Instead he felt her turn against his back, seeking out the shelter of his arms. He feigned sleep and turned as if in slumber, and she quickly drifted back into unconsciousness.

He sighed. Not yet. But still time. When the day came, he had plans to take the ring to a shop at Diagon Alley and have them engrave the number on the inside of her wedding band. He smirked to himself as he smoothed a hand through her hair, wondering what that number would be.

--

83.

--

Okay, I thought I'd explained this well enough in the story, but I'm getting a lot of questions about it so I'll spell it out a little more:

Draco is getting the number 83 engraved on Ginny's ring because that's the number of days it took for her to stop waking up at 3:09 in the morning. It took 83 days for Ginny to completely trust him again.

Hope this helps, and please keep reviewing! :D


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